


Die letzte Symphonie

by kenkamishiro



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Gen, Mystery, Violinist Kaneki, more characters as the story goes along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4284333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenkamishiro/pseuds/kenkamishiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So what did the old man want to talk to you about?" Hide questions Kaneki as they begin walking towards the bus stop.</p><p>Kaneki looks into Hide's warm brown eyes. "He wants me to play for the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ouvertüre

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a few years since I've played in an orchestra, but I've really missed it, which was how Die letzte Symphonie (The Last Symphony) was born. I'll be referring to a lot of orchestral pieces, so I highly, highly recommend taking a listen to the links I've included.
> 
> I've managed to plan around three-quarters of the plot out, so hopefully I won't run into too much trouble while writing this. I'll be adding more characters as the story goes on as well, but a lot of the focus will be on Kaneki and Amon. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki realizes that he is unfortunately the protagonist of a novel.

Tonight is probably the most nerve-wracking night of Kaneki Ken’s life. So far, anyways.

Kaneki prides himself on being a pretty calm person. Someone’s yelling at him to move out of the way before he gets a fist to the face? Kaneki dodges the offender and politely apologizes for causing trouble. There’s an explosion in the music faculty cafeteria (probably due to a mindless student forgetting to remove the lid when microwaving their food)? Kaneki calls the fire department and assures them that no, the chemistry department is perfectly fine and no one needs to bring in a hazmat squad. And then he goes back to eating his ham sandwich despite the carcinogenic stench of burnt yakisoba poisoning the room.

Yet somehow said violinist always get ridiculously anxious right before concerts. He tries to convince himself that even if he royally screws up, there are dozens of screeching violins, squeaking clarinets and obnoxiously loud trumpets to drown out his mistakes. Despite repeatedly telling himself that tonight though, his stomach twists more and more tightly into a nervous knot. His only consolation is that at least Rize isn’t there yet to call him ‘weak’ and a ‘wet noodle’ like she usually does.

It doesn’t help that while setting up his violin, Kaneki discovers that he forgot his rosin. Thankfully he borrows his desk mate’s but he still got a minor heart attack over it.

It really doesn’t help that he almost trips over a trombone case, and receives a death glare from the principal trombonist aka the second-scariest person in the orchestra (the first is the concertmaster).

He is walking on a tightrope of nerves over an abyss. That’s what Kaneki feels like, anyways. He doesn’t know why he is more wound up than usual tonight, but his question is soon answered when Ogura Hisashi, the orchestra conductor of the Kamii University Symphony Orchestra, pulls Kaneki aside right before dress rehearsal to let him know that second desk, first violinist Kaneki Ken would be tonight’s concertmaster. Yup, off he goes flying into the abyss.

“W-what!?!” Kaneki sputters. He doesn’t think he’s ever sounded so shrill in his life. “What happened to Rize-san? And Karube-san? Isn’t the assistant concertmaster supposed to replace the concertmaster?”

“I don’t know what happened to Kamishiro. She’s not answering any of our calls or messages. As for Karube, she got in a car accident an hour ago and she’s in the hospital now.”

“In the hospital?” Kaneki gasps. “Is she okay?”

The conductor looks down sombrely. “I don’t think so. Apparently some of the glass from the crash got into her eyes.”

“Oh.” Kaneki likes Karube. He really does. She is a very nice person who can somehow manage to deal with Rize’s shit, and he desperately hopes that she will be alright, but the monosyllabic word is all that Kaneki can manage to speak without freaking out about becoming the concertmaster _the day of the actual concert._ What the hell.

Ogura sighs. “Listen, Kaneki-kun. You’re a smart and talented musician with a sharp ear. You’ve been sitting behind Kamishiro the entire time. Plus, she’s your violin teacher, so you know how she plays. If anyone can perform near her level, it would be you. So please…I’m begging you!”

Kaneki gawks at the bespectacled man. The knot lodged in his stomach lurches upwards and is slowly squeezing his lungs flat. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, letting the cool air fill up his lungs and expelling the panic from his body.

“I’m sorry, I can’t play the solo for Rimsky-Korsakov. I’ve never–”

“Don’t worry,” Ogura reassures him. “You’ve played the theme dozens of times as first violin anyways. Whatever you do I will follow, and the orchestra will follow. Just relax and play the solos to the best of your ability. It’s okay if you slow it down a tiny bit since this is such short notice, but that means I’ll have to slow down the tempo for the entire piece, which I want to avoid if at all possible.”

The conductor’s voice wavers. Kaneki opens his eyes to see the same panic mirrored, no, amplified, in Ogura’s eyes. He must have been trying to stay calm for Kaneki’s sake, but how could he when he had just lost two of his best violinists in one night? On the night of a concert, no less.

The violinist takes another deep breath, already regretting what he is about to say.

* * *

“KANEKI! YOU’RE THE WHAT!?!”

“Stop shouting, Hide. You’re going to make me go deaf,” Kaneki winces.

Hide smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, Kaneki. It’s just really…unexpected.”

“You’re telling me,” the violinist mutters as he takes a booklet of sheet music out of his folder and sets it on the matte black music stand. **_Capriccio Espagnol, Op. 34 by Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov_** is stamped across the top of the first page in big bold black letters.

Hide peers at the sheet music and flips through it nonchalantly. “Geez, why is the violin score so complicated?”

“Because I can actually play it, unlike you,” Kaneki retorts dryly.

“Very funny,” Hide says, lightly smacking his friend’s head. “I hate that it’s true though. If I could play the trumpet like that, I’d be the best in the world.”

“Good luck playing more than one note on your trumpet at the same time.”

Kaneki has to admit, he already feels a lot better after bantering with his best friend. He suspects that Hide does it on purpose, but he can never tell with the blonde trumpeter.

Hide puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. You’ve practiced the solos before, right?”

Kaneki pauses before nodding. “Yeah, but it’s completely different playing by yourself, especially for this piece. It’s pretty easy to fudge the trills when I’m playing with everyone, but now I have to play them perfectly and on the beat or else I’ll fall behind and slow everyone down.” What he doesn’t mention is that he has spent afternoons in the university’s private practice rooms playing the solo parts, even if he would never actually get to perform them. Kaneki isn’t sure why he does it, but now he’s thankful for that extra practice.

“Hmm…I don’t have any trills in my trumpet part, but the tempo is definitely an issue,” Hide says thoughtfully.

That was the catch of the _Capriccio Espagnol_. A beautiful, magnificent orchestral composition, but if the orchestra doesn’t play right on the conductor’s beat, then the lively Spanish dance transforms into a chaotic tangle of limbs and notes.

Kaneki clutches his bow tightly. He looks down at the bulging blue-green vein below his first knuckle on his right hand. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never been the concertmaster before. I’ve never played a solo in orchestra. I don’t know why the conductor even bothered to choose me out of–”

“Ken.”

The black-haired boy jumps in his seat as Hide plants his arms firmly on Kaneki’s tuxedo-covered shoulders.

“Stop deprecating yourself. Even if you don’t show it, I know you’re one of the best violinists in this orchestra. In Kamii, in fact. I know you’re smart and can get the fingering and tempo down and whatever else with a bit of practice. I believe in you, Kaneki Ken!”

Kaneki gapes at Hide. He doesn’t know what to say to that, but he doesn’t have to because Hide continues his spiel.

“A word of advice though. I know you’ll ace the technical stuff because I see you practicing it every day in that practice room of yours. You know, the farthest one down the hallway? (Kaneki turns pink, _how does Hide know that?_ ) But just make sure when you’re playing the solos that you’re enjoying yourself. You tend to be on the melancholy side, you know.” Hide smirks before letting go of Kaneki’s shoulders.

For some reason, Kaneki can’t seem to utter a single word other than, “Hide…”

Hide drops his cocky front and he quickly adds, “Was that pep talk too much? I was hoping that would cheer you up, but if that doesn’t work I can always slap you or something–”

Kaneki grabs Hide’s hand that is unconsciously scratching his cheek, and the blonde falls silent.

“No, I really needed that. Thanks.” Kaneki gives him a warm smile. “Can you set up my metronome? I need to get the tempo down for the triplet notes.”

Hide breathes a sigh of relief as he reaches into his friend’s bag. “I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

The KUSO’s concert repertoire is usually comprised of three pieces, but since the Kamii University Symphony Orchestra Spring Concert was the first concert of the school year, Ogura had only chosen two: Rimsky-Korsakov’s [_Capriccio Espagnol_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lh6mDL-VwYw) followed by Tchaikovsky’s [Suite No. 1 in D minor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H3xO2ksbuwU).

Kaneki wishes that he doesn’t have to play the Rimsky-Korsakov right away. Anything to avoid the inevitable for as long as possible. But then again, at least he can get it over with. Just like ripping a band-aid off a day-old wound, with the adhesive stuck to the broken skin. Kaneki also wishes that he didn’t have such morbid thoughts so often, but he blames that on the horror novels he had read so often in high school.

There isn’t anything more he can do to prepare by this point. He had practiced the solos alone and with the orchestra, and although he fumbled a bit at first, by the end of dress rehearsal Kaneki was playing almost as well as Rize had. In fact, he sounded exactly like Rize, from the way he interpreted the cadenza and placed emphasis on certain notes to the tempo of each phrase. Kaneki isn’t sure if that is a good or bad thing, but he doesn’t have time to ponder it because before he knows it, Kaneki is already walking across the stage and taking his seat on the edge of the stage.

In those short five minutes before the concert begins, Kaneki senses everything in his surroundings. His close proximity to the conductor’s podium and the audience. The brilliant stage lights warming the crown of his head. The faint scent of cherry blossoms from his desk mate. The quiet tittering of the audience in the packed concert hall. Ogura’s motioning hand from behind the stage curtains. His shaking calf muscles as he stands up, moving his music stand slightly out of the way to clear some space. The immediate silence that sweeps across the hall. The dust motes swirling around in the blinding light. The eye contact with the principal oboist as she inhales and plays a steady concert A. The haphazard collection of slightly out-of-tune A’s converging into one harmonious note and eventually into a warm heavenly chord which fades away once he sinks into his cushioned chair. The heavy clomping steps of the conductor, followed by a fortissimo applause. Ogura’s sweaty palm while shaking hands, and sitting back down onto the chair he has just vacated. The deep breath from above and the conductor raising his arms in preparation. The familiar sensation of the hard chinrest against his skin, and his worn bow near the rosin-dusted strings. The first downward stroke of the baton. And finally, an explosion of fast colourful notes, the snare drum keeping the beat steady.

Kaneki’s body sways to the energetic music. _This isn’t so bad_ , he thinks. _I’ve played this melody dozens of times. I can play this a couple times on my own. No big deal_. As soon as the first round of the theme ends, he quickly lifts his bow and begins plucking the strings with his fingers, accompanying the sound of the sweet clarinet as it skips through the air.

He wishes he could stay in this moment forever, but the orchestra is now repeating the melody, the clarinet is shining in its second solo, and Kaneki can feel his impending debut solo quickly approaching.

 _Stay on the beat, stay on the beat_. He stares at his sheet music, counting each bar religiously. A bar before his solo, Kaneki takes a full breath and lifts his bow.

_What the hell am I playing?_

Kaneki cringes, the sound grating his ears. Everything feels heavy, the atmosphere the consistency of molasses. His stone fingers and arms refuse to move properly, and it takes all of his concentration just to barely stay on time. Light flicks with a stick, not heavy strikes with a sword.

 _Light fingers. I need to be light. I need to relax so that it actually sounds like a Spanish dance, not a funeral dirge_.

The second movement, _Variazioni_ , begins, and his mind wanders as he listens to the soothing movement taken over by the wind and brass, echoes of a repeating melody that wash Kaneki in his memories.

* * *

He is sitting on a giant plastic whale in the middle of a playground. The sun is sinking rapidly into the ground, and the kids and their parents are getting ready to leave the park. He sees a girl with a ponytail, around eight, holding her arms and waving them around until her father amusedly picks her up. A toddler crying as his mother pats his head soothingly and wipes his tears with her thumb.

He probably should have waited until the playground was empty before coming here. He just hopes that none of the adults approach him and ask where his parents are, or else he might actually burst into tears.

“Oi, Kaneki. Have you been there this entire time?”

Kaneki starts. He glances to his right and there Hide is, looking up at him from the ground, a red school backpack in tow.

“How did you…?”

“Know where you were?” Hide puts on an invisible deerstalker hat and pretends to smoke a pipe. “Elementary, my dear Kaneki. I figured you would be either on the hill or here, so I took a guess. And I was right!”

“Oh…” Kaneki trails off. He stares at the red and blue rubber playground floor blankly.

Hide stares at him for a few seconds before jumping up and joining Kaneki on the whale structure. He pats Kaneki’s shoulders firmly, jolting Kaneki from his gloomy thoughts.

“My mom’s making udon tonight. I’m sure she has enough for you as well.”

Kaneki’s eyes widen. “What? I can’t, I’d just be disrupting–”

“No way, she loves you! I think she bought too many udon packages, so we’d be okay even if we fed you for an entire week. Plus, I want you to hear me play the trumpet. I don’t sound like a dying goose anymore! Why don’t you try playing it too?”

The boy prattles on about his beloved trumpet. A small smile slowly creeps onto Kaneki’s face.

“I doubt I’ll be able to play it.”

“No way! Just blow as hard as you can and you’ll be good to go!”

* * *

Kaneki smiles nostalgically as the second movement comes to a quiet close. He somehow feels lighter, the flute trilling away the stress from his burdens, even with his upcoming solo. Amazing how Hide can help him even now.

 _Alborada_ , the third movement, begins, the woodwinds reprising the first movement. Kaneki focuses on his sheet music, counting down the bars until his solo. He returns the bow into his grasp, takes a deep breath and dives into the music.

 _Am I really playing right now?_ It can’t be – the melody sounds much happier than anything Kaneki has ever played in his life. And yet it’s his fingers that are dancing with excitement and keeping in perfect time with the orchestra, and his bow that is caressing the violin strings. Everything feels weightless, a rare experience for Kaneki who is used to the heaviness of life.

The clarinet sneaks in, mingling with Kaneki’s violin as its arpeggios rise and fall. The third movement ends with an orchestra hit, and Kaneki takes a much needed sigh of relief. He has almost made it, but the hardest part is still yet to come. Even though he has free reign of the cadenza, he is still nervous. At that moment, no one will be accompanying him. Just Kaneki alone on that stage, the unwanted spotlight shining directly on him, like that time in elementary school when he was forced to be the lead of the school play. How does he even end up in these situations?

The fourth movement, _Scena e Canto gitano_ , takes off with the horns and trumpets in the back, accompanied by the snare drum. Kaneki can almost hear Hide shout, “You can do it, Kaneki! Ace that solo!” from his trumpet fanfare. He shivers as the trumpets announce the start of the Spanish gypsy dance with the D minor arpeggio, and he feels the adrenaline racing through his veins as he picks up his bow to perform the cadenza.

He wonders where Rize is, what could have happened to make her miss such an important night, because he’s pretty sure that this cadenza is her favourite part of the piece, if not the entire concert repertoire. He remembers that she once told him that she liked performing cadenzas because of the freedom to interpret the cadenza and make it her own. Not the conductor’s, not another musician’s, but hers alone. At least that’s what Kaneki picked up from it. Her exact words were something like _this is the only time I can play however I want without the fucking conductor throwing a hissy fit_. Yeah, Kaneki prefers his interpretation of Rize’s quote, but unfortunately he won’t be able to follow it tonight, because the last thought that pops up in Kaneki’s head before beginning the cadenza is: _how would Rize-san play this?_

The first chord slices through the air like lightning. Kaneki’s fingers fly across the fingerboard, and he strikes the strings delicately yet with fervor. He moves the bow sensually, the vibrato from each chord filling the hall with heated tension. Agonizingly slow arpeggios that snake through the audience and leave behind goosebumps as parting gifts. No one can look away as Kaneki and his violin dance to the exotic Spanish melody, and he plays his final note, a high A, shrill but oddly pleasing to the ear.

The concert hall is silent for what seems like an eternity as the high note dissipates almost instantaneously. Kaneki has little time to dwell on his performance though, and he quickly joins the first violins while the solo flute and clarinet sing the passed-on melody. Like two rabbits hopping around on a grassy meadow, the wind carrying the haunting melody through the field before snatching the two rabbits’ melodies out of sight and replacing them with the oboe’s and the harp’s.

The harpist plays the heavenly notes with a flourish, but Kaneki can barely hear it over the pounding of blood pulsing through his head.  He’s pretty sure his face is tomato red now, but he doesn’t care because he did it. He did it! _Actually, Rize-san did it, but–_

He doesn’t have any more time to think though, because the spotlight has returned to the violins, and Kaneki throws himself back into the sheet music as the gypsy dance commences.

The rest of the _Capriccio Espagnol_ passes by in an energetic blur, but when it ends in vivid red fireworks with a maelstrom of musical notes exploding  into the air, Kaneki thinks, _Rize-san, thank you for lending me your strength_.

The audience explodes into thunderous applause. Ogura is bowing to the audience, then turns around and gestures for Kaneki to stand up. Kaneki stands up awkwardly, his legs completely stiff, and the crowd claps even louder. The blood rushes to his face and he manages a slight bow without knocking over any stands or instruments, which he considers a success.

One by one, the soloists stand up, and the applause increases in volume. Kaneki glances to his left, and the first thing that catches his eye is a sparkling silver flute held upright by with both hands by a girl with short dark blue hair, her bangs completely covering up her right eye. He also notices a boy with messy hair, colour similar to the flutist’s, except he is holding a black clarinet with charcoal keys instead of the usual silver. And of course, Hide’s familiar tuft of blonde hair all the way in the back.

The audience slowly quiets down, and the musicians take their seats again. The conductor mouths _Tchaikovsky_ , and waits a few seconds before making eye contact to the back of the stage. He lifts his baton, and the eerie melody of the bassoon permeates the hall.

Kaneki would have loved to revel in the bassoon’s solo longer, but only a couple measures pass before he and the other violinists quietly start trilling, swirling around the bassoon’s ghostly voice before taking over the melody themselves.

Even though there are five other movements in the suite, Kaneki has to admit that the _Introduzione_ of the first movement is his favourite part of the entire piece, the only one that truly feels like D minor. There is just something about D minor that resonates within Kaneki’s core. D minor understands Kaneki, and Kaneki understands D minor. The remaining movements are too bright for Kaneki’s taste, even the third movement, _Intermezzo_. They must have been the precursor of Tchaikovsky’s _Nutcracker Suite_ , because whenever he hears the fourth movement, _Marche miniature_ , that is all he can think about. Toy soldiers and ballet dancers and Christmas ornaments.

As Kaneki slides the bow across the violin strings at the climax of _Introduzione_ , his bowing arm relaxes and plays the discordant descending chromatic scale. He can pinpoint Hide’s trumpet in the haunting fanfare, the one that sounds just a bit brighter than the other brass instruments. The entire orchestra comes to a sudden halt with the timpani the only sound echoing in the hall. He continues to play, albeit accompanying the cellos with harmony until _Introduzione_ comes to a quiet close.

The second half of the first movement, _Moderato e con anima_ , begins, and Kaneki returns to the music in front of him, playing with precision. He finds that the fugue is too traditional for his tastes, reminiscent of Bach and his structural pieces. Not that the king of counterpoint is bad, but Kaneki prefers modern and abstract pieces in general because they express everything much more accurately, whether it be waking up in a puddle in the middle of a magical forest or lying in a hospital bed waiting for death to hurry up and pull the plug. He likes the way the notes flow freely, sometimes harmonizing with each other and other times colliding into seemingly chaotic dissonance.

The first movement ends, and the rest of the Nutcracker-esque suite proceeds smoothly. The suite and the concert end on a bright note, and the fluffy dance is replaced with thundering applause while the tired musicians stand up and the conductor bows many times before the clock strikes midnight and reality seeps into the dream-like aura of the concert hall.

* * *

As soon as Kaneki leaves the stuffy stage, he groans loudly in relief. The adrenaline has finally taken its toll on his body, and he is exhausted and looking forward to greeting his pillow.

He isn’t sure what to think of tonight. It had been terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. And yet when he was playing the solo, everything in his vicinity had fogged up and disappeared from his mind. Just him and his violin. That was all that had mattered at the time. It was weird because even though he had performed plenty of recitals before, this was the first time that Kaneki had ever been this absorbed in the music.

“Kaneki-kun, congrats on the solo!” someone calls out from the crowd of musicians just exiting the stage.

“Yeah, that was amazing! How’d you learn to play like that?”

The backstage room echoes with dozens of congratulations. Kaneki blushes and stammers a thank you, but he doesn’t think anyone can hear it.

“Oi, Kaneki, where are you?” Hide calls out just as he steps into Kaneki’s line of sight. He finally sees Kaneki and runs up to him.

“What did I tell you? I told you that you would ace it!” he declares enthusiastically, waving his arms around like a spastic octopus holding a golden spit-covered trumpet. The spit goes flying, and someone shouts, “Nagachika, you bastard, watch where you’re aiming that thing!”

“Sorry, Nishio-san!” Hide yells back, and lowers his instrument.

“D-did I really? Ace it, I mean,” Kaneki asks incredulously.

“Uh, yeah! When I heard you, it was mind-blowing. You connected really well with the accompanying woodwinds, and you played really brightly for the third movement. And then your cadenza was – wow. You can’t get any more Spanish than that. You could probably seduce a hot girl playing like that.” Hide raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Kaneki blushes again because he thinks Hide is laying on the compliments a bit too much. Not that he doesn’t appreciate it.

“That’s good,” Kaneki replies automatically, but he catches himself. “I mean the playing well thing, not the seducing thing!! Hide, stop laughing!”

Hide continues to chortle and clutches his stomach in mock pain. Typical Hide.

Kaneki wipes his brow and sighs. “At least it’s over with. By the way, good job on the trumpet solo. It sent shivers down my back.”

“Ah well, it was all of us playing, but I’ll take the thanks,” Hide grins and gives him a thumbs-up. “I have to admit, it was pretty epic. Anyways, I have to go clean my trumpet before I get spit on someone else again, so I’ll be back in a few minutes, ‘kay?”

Kaneki nods. “See you in a bit.”

* * *

Kaneki and Hide are walking out into the main lobby of the concert hall when a man with whitening grey hair approaches them.

“Excuse me. Are you the concertmaster by any chance?” The man has a soothing voice and a genial smile on his aged face.

Kaneki blinks. “Interim concertmaster,” Kaneki corrects him hesitantly. “The actual concertmaster and assistant concertmaster couldn’t make it today.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. Although you played the Rimsky-Korsakov exceptionally well. Even with the limited amount of practice you must have had, I was quite moved by your cadenza.”

“T-thank you, sir,” Kaneki stutters. Hide elbows him in the side and Kaneki shoots him a glare.

“Anyways,” the man looks pointedly at Hide before bringing his gaze back to Kaneki, “I was wondering if I could talk to you alone.”

Hide immediately notices the man’s tone change, all business, and he nods. “I’ll be waiting by the front entrance, Kaneki.”

Kaneki and the man watch the blonde disappear from the lobby.

“So you are Kaneki?”

“Yes, Kaneki Ken.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kaneki-san. I am Dr. Kanou Akihiro, and I am the conductor of the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra.”

Kaneki’s eyes widen in shock. _The Tokyo Symphony Orchestra is one of the top orchestras in Japan. What is he talking to a measly university violinist for?_

“Although I am a very busy man, I stopped by here tonight for a reason.” Kanou purses his lips and continues. “One of the violinists from my orchestra has suddenly quit, although I believe you may know her as the concertmaster and your current violin teacher?”

Kaneki gapes at Kanou. “Rize-san? She actually contacted you?”

“Yes, just a couple hours ago, actually. Told me that she couldn’t stand playing as a group, and quit on the spot.”

Kaneki groans. Something seems a bit off, but that definitely sounds like something she would do on a whim. Although everyone recognizes that Kamishiro Rize is an extremely talented musician, few could actually stand her due to her terrible personality and unwillingness to cooperate with others. Frankly, he isn’t sure how he deals with her either.

“At least she’s not floating face down in the middle of the Sumida River,” he deadpans.

Kanou chuckles at Kaneki’s dark humour. “Yes, anything but. But that was not the main reason I came to talk to you today.”

Kaneki tilts his head in confusion.

“Because Kamishiro-san quit, the TSO is now a violinist short. This normally wouldn’t be a problem, but a few of our regular violinists and all of our backup ones were borrowed for an international tour, and we have a concert in just over a week.”

Kaneki doesn’t like where this is headed.

The conductor clears his throat. “I was very impressed with your last-minute performance, and how well you seem to work under pressure. I was wondering if you would like to play for the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra as a first violinist.”

Kaneki opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish before managing to stammer, “I-I’m only a second year though. Wouldn’t there be other violinists better and more experienced than me?”

“Of course, but I don’t have time to run auditions through all of Kamii’s and Tokyo’s violinists, and to be honest, you do have the technical skill necessary to do well in the TSO.”

Kaneki doesn’t know what to think. He had started out tonight almost getting murdered by the scary trombonist, and now he is being offered a seat in one of the most prestigious orchestras in Japan. What is he, the protagonist of a novel?

“Could I have some time to think over your offer?”

“Of course, Kaneki-san. I realize that this is very sudden for you.”

Kaneki mutters a thank-you, and just as he is about to leave, Kanou hands him his business card and calls out, “It would be great if you could give me an answer by tomorrow noon, seeing as how short on time we are.”

Kaneki nods mutely and bows slightly to the esteemed conductor before taking his leave. He walks back silently to the front entrance to where Hide is waiting for him.

“So what did the old man want to talk to you about?” Hide questions Kaneki as they begin walking towards the bus stop.

Kaneki looks into Hide’s warm brown eyes. “He wants me to play for the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouvertüre (German): overture; an introductory piece, often designed to initiate an opera or other dramatic work.
> 
> For one of my orchestra auditions, I had to play the clarinet excerpt from Capriccio Espagnol, which was the same theme that Kaneki had to play in the third movement. And it was an ABSOLUTE PAIN IN THE ASS trying to perfect it. Good thing Kaneki practiced it a lot...As a side note, Kaneki's 'bright' solo starts at 6:57, while his cadenza is at 8:22 in the link I added.
> 
> I've only played the clarinet, but I do have some general knowledge of the other instruments thanks to years of band and orchestra (like Hide's spit-dripping trumpet). If I mess something up, please let me know! Constructive feedback is also greatly appreciated! If you want, send me an ask on my tumblr (kenkamishiro).


	2. Adagio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki gets advice from Mom and Dad.

Kaneki is staring at the ceiling in his dark bedroom, his arms neatly folded over his navy blue comforter, his moonlight eyes long adjusted to the blackness, just enough to make out the details of the rough ceiling texture. He has already identified Ursa Major and Minor, Sagittarius, Orion and Phoenix in the faint clusters of bumps above during the two hours that he’s been staring at them. Who knows why he knows all these constellations since he has never been outside Tokyo’s thick glass dome of light pollution and his ceiling is the second-closest thing resembling a glittering night sky that he has actually seen with his own eyes.

He grunts in annoyance and flips over onto his stomach. He should be weighing the advantages and disadvantages of Kanou’s offer, not stargazing indoors. Good thing tomorrow – no, today – is Sunday so he doesn’t have to worry about waking up early for class. Not that it matters. The deadline is at noon; Kaneki will force himself to get up early anyway to fret for a few hours before finalizing his decision.

Kanou’s words echo through Kaneki’s hollow mind over and over. _I was wondering if you would like to play for the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra as a first violinist. I was wondering if you would like to play for the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra. Play for the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra. Tokyo Symphony Orchestra…_

* * *

Kaneki couldn’t believe his (questionable) good luck. Neither can Hide. His eyes almost bulge out of his sockets, mouth wide enough for a train to pass through as he screeches “WHAT!?!”, causing all heads in the lobby to turn to the two boys.

 _Not this again_ , Kaneki can’t help but think. He clamps his hand over Hide’s mouth.

“Keep it down!” he hisses. His grey eyes dart back and forth nervously at the people who are staring at them with various expressions on their faces, ranging from confusion to indifference.

“I can’t help it!” Hide exclaims, his voice muffled by Kaneki’s hand, but he manages to lower his voice a few notches before slapping his hand away. “Seriously, you need to stop giving me life-changing news twice in one day. You’re going to give me a heart attack!”

“What do you think this is doing to me then?”

Kaneki sighs. This is hopeless. His mind is swimming in a sea of whispers and he needs someplace quiet and less hectic to contemplate the situation. “Can we talk about this at home?”

Hide opens his mouth as if he wants to say something more, but he concedes, giving Kaneki an understanding nod.

The violinist and the trumpeter, the sopranos of the strings and brass, walk silently in unison, their strides almost identical, although one of theirs lags slightly behind the other. They pass a cake shop smothered in pink frosting, a sepia second-hand bookstore, a round and bubbly Daiso store and a smooth dark roast café. A couple minutes of trotting later they arrive at the bus stop, a clear plastic box under a canopy of fresh cherry blossoms adorned with dancing fairy lights.

Spring isn’t really Kaneki’s favourite season, but he can’t help but feel nostalgic, satisfied, wistful whenever he sees the pale pink petals fall endlessly like snow. He wonders why there isn’t a special word for it, like there is for snowfall, _yukifuri_. Why does ‘ _sakurafuri_ ’ or ‘cherry blossom fall’ not exist in the Japanese lexicon? Kaneki likes it. It has a nice twinkling vibraphone ring to it, and reminds him of the night lights wrapped around the trees, the artificial starry sky above the empty bus stop.

Kaneki and Hide are about to seat themselves on the bench, but a bus which must have been sky blue in the sunlight rolls to a stop in front of them. They scan their smartphones to pay the transit fare before heading to the back of the vehicle. Hide scoots into first and takes the window seat. Kaneki doesn’t mind though because it’s not like he’s going to admire the streets of Tokyo while he’s reading.

He sees Hide fish out a pair of headphones out of his bag and plug it into his phone. Kaneki might as well try to distract himself even though he doubts he is going to be successful. He rifles through his backpack and quickly finds the current novel he is reading. _The Unconsoled_ by Ishiguro Kazuo, a story or rather a perplexing series of events about Ryder, a famous pianist who cannot seem to remember anything concrete other than that he is performing a concert on Thursday night.

Kaneki prefers Japanese literature, mostly because he likes to appreciate the multiple hidden meanings authors hide behind the kanji and their altered readings which a lot of foreign literature lack due to translation, but this novel is an exception. He had found it at the used bookstore, first attracted to the strange cover of a man in a tweed jacket, head and neck obscured by the inky black background. Below the man was a red maze with dozens of smaller people standing on the edge of it, Tweed Man looking down on the people like Big Brother with dementia. Intrigued by the cover, Kaneki had bought it on a whim without realizing that although Ishiguro was Japanese, he had been raised in England and had thus written the book in English.

Kaneki isn’t sure of what to make of Ishiguro’s novel. He is almost a hundred pages in, utterly confused at what is going on. Nothing makes sense; the characters, setting and time warp as if Ryder is stuck in an infinite dream of his life. People from his past appear when they shouldn’t, the protagonist can’t remember people he should easily recognize. As if his memories shattered into a thousand pieces and some stranger poorly attempted to piece them back together.

Kaneki is poring over the current chapter he is reading, Ryder eating lunch at a café with Christoff and Henri, when a nudge on his shoulder brings him out of the European café and back to Tokyo. He looks through the window on the opposite side and recognizes the familiar streets of Nerima, and he gratefully packs his disorienting book inside his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The bus pauses, and Kaneki grabs his violin case and steps outside into the cool night air, Hide following close behind.

The good thing about that particular bus stop is that it is situated right in front of their plain tan fifteen-story apartment building, one out of twenty in the Zeum complex. _Asachi_ , their building, was pretty rundown compared to some of the newer ones, but neither of the boys cared as long as it was functional and the rent was cheap.

Kaneki and Hide quickly journey through the lobby, up the elevator and onto the twelfth floor. Hide unlocks the door and flings it wide open, skating through the slippery hallway (having already slid off his shoes in the elevator) and throwing himself onto the worn brown pleather sofa in a graceless heap. Meanwhile, Kaneki neatly takes off his loafers and places his and Hide’s in the cupboard after closing the door. When he enters the living room and notices Hide squirming out of his tuxedo jacket, he takes the jacket wordlessly and hangs it on a chair before joining the blonde on the couch and sitting on Hide’s feet. Hide wiggles them in annoyance but manages to fit his legs in comfortably between the sofa and Kaneki’s back.

“Alright, so care to tell me what exactly happened back there?”

Throughout his short explanation, Kaneki gauges Hide’s reaction. To his disappointment, Hide is straight-faced the entire time except when he cocks an eyebrow at Kanou’s position as conductor of the TSO. When he has no words left to say, Hide lets out a loud whistle.

“That’s pretty crazy. Are you sure you’re not the protagonist of a novel?”

Kaneki tosses a pillow at Hide’s face.

“Kidding!” Hide gives him a sly grin which morphs into a serious expression. “But seriously, what’re you gonna do?”

“What…I’m going to do?” Kaneki repeats faintly.

Hide folds his arms across his chest and gazes at the ceiling. “Well, yeah. I’m guessing from your dumbfounded expression that you have no clue whether you should accept or not. But you’ve at least thought of the pros and cons of joining, right?”

“I guess? I mean, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I’d be crazy not to take it. But I’m kind of hesitant about this.” Kaneki can feel himself rambling already. “Why would Dr. Kanou personally ask for me, even if I was Rize-san’s student? It’s not like I’m particularly outstanding or anything. Plus…”

“You’re wondering why he would want to choose someone associated with Rize because she’s a complete bitch? Even though you’re as gentle as a baby goat?” Hide adds in helpfully.

“You mean ‘kid’. But um, yeah. What you said. The first part I mean.”

Hide shrugs. “Sorry, I have no clue why. But personally, I think you’re a pretty outstanding musician.”

Kaneki almost groans. “Hide, that’s just you.”

“My opinion is perfectly valid and one hundred percent true!” Hide raises his hands in defense to hide his smug grin.

Kaneki decides to move on, because nothing is going to convince his stubborn best friend otherwise.

“Just tell me what you think about this whole situation.”

“What I think?” Hide blows a strand of his dyed hair upwards, pursing his lips and looking upwards in intense concentration. “I think it’s pretty suspicious as well, and if we weren’t broke university students I’d want you to refuse the offer.”

_He actually agrees with me?_

Hide looks back at Kaneki, and the violinist can see the jesting twinkle in Hide’s brown eyes disappear. “But we are. I know this is just a temporary gig, but you’re basically being handed your life on a silver platter, and in this time and age where no one can find jobs even when they graduate, it’s a pretty sweet deal, and you can’t deny it.”

Kaneki stares at the swirling grooves on the hardwood floor. Hide is right, of course. The current Kaneki wants to say no, but the future him wants to call Kanou immediately and thank him endlessly for his generosity.

“I say accept the offer,” Hide continues. “It’s only for a short period of time, right? And you can use that experience when you’re auditioning for other orchestras later on.”

Something still doesn’t sit right, but it’s not as if Kaneki can counter Hide’s pragmatic logic.

Kaneki gives him a thin smile. “Good thing I have you to help me make my decisions.”

Hide gives him a thumbs-up, and the twinkle is back. “That’s my specialty, turning losing battles into victory.”

The violinist rolls his eyes and gets off the extremely comfy couch that he is slowly sinking into. “Alright, alright, General Nagachika Hideyoshi. I’m going to shower first. Don’t sleep too late.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Hide teases him, but nevertheless he gets up and tries to smooth out his wrinkled dress shirt as he heads towards his bedroom.

* * *

Kaneki has turned over onto his back and spotted Andromeda now.

It’s been over two hours since his discussion with Hide yet he’s still not entirely convinced if he’s making the right decision or not. The offer doesn’t seem that big, just a couple rehearsals and a concert to replace a missing violinist, but there is something gnawing at Kaneki’s stomach that tells him that this is a bad idea. And he has no clue why. Or does he?

He stretches out his right arm, grabbing his phone from the nightstand and unlocking it. His eyes, long adjusted to the dark, squint at the blinding white light. Scrolling through his contact list he finds ‘Kamishiro Rize’. Ten calls made in the last two hours, none of which were received. Kaneki tries again anyways and presses the green call button. Dial tone for what seems like an hour before it goes to voicemail again.

Kaneki hangs up before the beep. He’s already left a voicemail for Rize asking her to call him as soon as possible, so there isn’t much he can do at this point.

But in all seriousness, where is Rize? When Kanou had told Kaneki of his phone call with Rize, he had immediately thought of her irresponsible side, following her whims even if it was detrimental to her and the other people around her. But now that Kaneki is away from the hubbub and contemplating it in his bed, he realizes that she wouldn’t really do that. Sure, she was what Hide called the ‘hot man-eater bitch’ but Rize loved her music and her violin and best of all, basking in the spotlight. And she had let it slip through her fingers, playing her beloved cadenza onstage, by not coming to the concert tonight.

A knife wrenches itself in his gut and sends waves of shivers down Kaneki’s body. His body growls, like a feral beast starving for flesh. He tries to push it away from his mind.

Either way, whatever had happened tonight must have been serious enough for Rize to skip. So she had either lied to Dr. Kanou which was certainly plausible…or Dr. Kanou had lied to him about Rize, which didn’t make any sense because why would the conductor lie about something like that? Maybe Kaneki _should_ play with the TSO, to find out where Rize is and if anything has happened to her…

Kaneki’s stomach lurches as if there is something clawing, devouring his insides, and he staggers out of his bed, rushing toward the bathroom and clutching his stomach.

* * *

Hide finds Kaneki on the bathroom floor at three in the morning, slumped against the bathtub next to the toilet. He crouches and places the back of his hand on Kaneki’s pale and sweaty forehead.

“Intoxicated from the attention last night?” Hide asks innocently. Kaneki rolls his eyes in exasperation although he can hear genuine concern in his friend’s voice.

Kaneki moves away from Hide’s hand and leans his head against a thick towel lining the edge of the bathtub. “More like the hamburger wasn’t properly cooked. I’ll be fine, so you can just leave me here,” he tries to convince Hide.

Hide isn’t impressed. Before Kaneki knows it, Hide has hooked his arms around his armpits, and is slowly dragging him back to his room.

Kaneki yelps in surprise, but it sounds more like a croak with his dry throat. “What are you–”

“Okay, first of all,” Hide interrupts him, his voice floating from somewhere behind Kaneki, “stop pretending like you’re fine. You have freaking food poisoning. Second, I really need to go pee, and I can’t go with you hogging the toilet.” The mattress creaks, and suddenly Kaneki is lying on the bed, with Hide pulling out the sheets from under his body.

“Thanks,” Kaneki says weakly. He wiggles his body around to make it easier for Hide to tuck him in under the comforter.

“What are friends for?” Hide says as he finishes covering Kaneki in the blanket. “I’ll call Big Girl later today. We’re regular customers, so maybe if I tell them they’ll give us a free meal for next time.”

Kaneki snorts. “Conniving bastard,” he mutters half-heartedly, and Hide lets out a bark.

“Ha! Can’t complain if this conniving bastard is keeping us from getting kicked out onto the curb, right?” Hide observes his handiwork, and his eyes suddenly light up. “Be right back.”

He leaves the room and comes back with a glass of water a minute later. “Drink up and sleep in, okay? Get some rest, and don’t try to do homework or whatever ungodly thing you think you need to do on a Sunday morning.”

“Alright,” Kaneki murmurs, already half-unconscious as he graciously takes the cup and sips on the water. “G’night, Hide.”

“Night, Kaneki.”

However, Kaneki Ken isn’t the kind of person to let a free Sunday morning go to waste.

He wakes up at eight, groggy and empty, but feeling a lot better than he did a few hours ago. He tests himself by gingerly walking across the room, and thankfully the dizziness and accompanying nausea are  gone. He gets ready in ten minutes, remembering to pack his rosin into his violin case before tiptoeing toward the door with his bag, violin and a light jacket.

“Sorry, Hide,” he whispers to the empty hallway. He can almost hear Hide shout, “Idiot!” as he quietly locks the door. Almost, but too close for comfort that Kaneki decides to take the twelve flights of stairs down instead of waiting for the elevator and possibly giving Hide time to drag him back inside.

Instead of heading straight to the bus stop in front of _Asachi_ , Kaneki stops by the nearby bakery a block away to buy two packages of anpan before going back and getting on the bus. He nibbles on one during the ride, and decides to save the other for later just in case his stomach can’t handle it.

He gets off the bus half an hour later in front Kamii University, filled with aged brick buildings next to half-naked trees and grassy lawns blanketed in cherry blossom petals. _Sakurafuri_ , Kaneki recalls from yesterday as he trudges across the deserted campus.

Five minutes later, he is standing in front of the Kamii University Faculty of Music, his second home. Once established as a small arts department, it grew over the decades, gaining recognition and producing some of the best classical musicians in Japan and the world. It gained so much recognition that its benefactors paid to have the seventy-year-old brick building torn down and replaced with a modern and expensive-looking granite and glass behemoth that screams prestige and money. Kaneki can’t deny that it looks amazing though.

Kaneki doesn’t go to the main entrance, the side of the building that houses the enormous glass window of a frosted music score to Taki Rentarou’s [_Koujou no Tsuki_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9S14GepyIPs), or _The Moon Over the Ruined Castle_ , a famous Japanese song composed in the Meiji era. Instead he takes a detour to the west side of the Cube (as affectionately called by Kamii students) toward a smaller and less grand entrance with two regular glass doors where music students can enter with their key cards. As he walks, he reaches into his backpack pocket to pull it out and…

It’s not there. Kaneki stares at the empty pocket blankly, and a beat later he tears through the canvas bag, desperately trying to find the key card that will cost him _five thousand yen_ if he doesn’t find it.

“Come on, come on!” Out goes his music folder. _The Unconsoled._ Pencil case. Cellphone charger. Wallet, metronome, a jumbo-sized metal paper clamp, the uneaten anpan. No key card.

“Shit.” There probably won’t be anyone coming at this time of day either, so Kaneki is now stuck outside in the slightly breezy April weather as he grudgingly puts his things back into his backpack.

 _And I came all this way just to practice…did I forget it at home?_ No way he is going back and facing Hide’s wrath until he accomplishes something for the day. But there’s nowhere else to practice besides the practice rooms and–

He retraces his steps and walks away from the Cube. _No other option_. He stops a block away at Kamii’s outdoor tables, cement picnic tables furnished with benches. Placing his backpack on the tabletop, he rummages through it once again until he finds what he needs: the clamp and his stiff black music folder. Kaneki  opens the folder and pulls out his music, flipping through the booklet to the appropriate page, then clamping it to the folder before setting the entire thing upright on the table. There, a makeshift music stand. Hide would be so proud since he was the one who had come up with the idea many years ago. It would be perfect if he could sit down as well, but the bench is tucked too closely into the table for there to be space to bow properly. Kaneki then unzips his black violin case and pulls out his precious violin. Precious to him, anyway. A decent violin, an EHR Stradivari 52. Nothing that an actual professional would use, but still costing more than Kaneki is worth.

He picks up his bow and applies rosin to the bowstrings, sets the violin in place and plays an concert A and a few chords, tweaking the pegs at the top of the neck. Normally he would take the time to tune the violin with his metronome or the piano in the practice rooms, but he’s desperately hoping that someone will come by and he won’t have to practice outside for a long time. At least the temperature is warm enough so that the pitch won’t go all wonky.

He warms up with a few scales, up and down three octaves, up and down. C major, A minor, F major, D minor. Legato, staccato, tap-tap slur, slur tap-tap, tap slur tap, a combination of whatever articulations Kaneki can recall.

He stares at the makeshift stand and its contents.

And then he realizes that he does need his metronome. Kaneki chides himself for being so forgetful as he takes out his metronome and sets it to sixty beats per minute. The irritating beep-beep sound fills his ears, and he counts a full bar before jumping into the music.

Kaneki really loves this concerto. In fact, it’s one of his favourites, but he wonders what terrible deed he did in a previous life for Rize to choose such a difficult technical piece for him. The second movement, the quintessential lyrical piece of most concertos and the one Kaneki is currently practicing, has a few technical parts, but it is nothing compared to the virtuosic first and third movements. Especially the third movement. He doesn’t even want to think about it. A leviathan, that’s what it is. When Kaneki had shown Hide his violin sheet music, Hide had flipped through it, stared at it for a long time, particularly at the front and back pages, and given him a pitying look reserved for kicked puppies. He had also patted Kaneki’s head and left the room with a simple “Good luck, man”, leaving Kaneki with his amazingly difficult piece that he was supposed to play for the year-end recital in December. That incident had been three months ago, and with seven months left to master the concerto, Kaneki isn’t any closer to acing it.

He pauses the metronome and drags through the arpeggios and scales of the section he is playing, making sure to play every note accurately. He tries again with the metronome and when he finally succeeds after a few minutes, Kaneki feels confident enough to start from the beginning and play through [the entire movement](https://youtu.be/sCY-JYryRSw?t=17m24s).

There are various bits of phrases where Kaneki can almost hear the notes come to life, hints of a tender serenade as it ebbs and flows between two eternal lovers. But otherwise, the piece sounds unconvincing. Flat and novice. Kaneki just can’t play emotionally. He’s just never been able to. Throughout his short musical career filled with adjudicated violin exams and competitions, Kaneki has always lost marks for musicality, more than the average musician. Thankfully he makes up for it with technical skill, but it has always bothered him, even more lately since Rize always tells him to play as himself instead of imitating someone else’s. But really, what is that supposed to mean? Doesn’t everyone copy someone else better than them to improve? And Kaneki can’t play his soul out, so he might as well just imitate other people anyways. Look how well yesterday night turned out.

Speaking of which, what is he going to do with this concerto now that Rize is gone? _She might not be gone for long_ , he tries to persuade himself. _Maybe she’s just taking a week off for vacation…but then she wouldn’t  quit the TSO and skip yesterday’s concert just for that._

Kaneki doesn’t even get to the arpeggios. He stops at the measure marked with a boxed “1”, on the long B flat note, dying away into nothingness. What’s the point of practicing if he can’t even focus on playing such a straightforward section?

The violinist grits his teeth and is about to start from the beginning again when he hears loud clapping noises coming from behind him. He whirls around, his bow accidentally brushing against the violin strings haphazardly and causing his violin to emit screeches of a tortured crow. Standing a couple metres away in front of him is a large man in a well-fitting grey suit and carrying a briefcase. Even with his slight near-sightedness, Kaneki can make out  his…questionable eyebrows. Wow. He didn’t even know that eyebrows could do that. Kaneki is so fascinated with them that he almost forgets to be embarrassed at the fact that _there was a stranger listening to his horrific playing_.

“I’m sorry,” the man apologizes. A smooth and calming baritone with the undertone of a majestic C major chord, Kaneki notes automatically as it flashes through his mind, a voice that could calm down a screaming baby. “I didn’t mean to disrupt you from your practice. I heard a violin from a block away,” the man motions towards the main street, “and I was curious.”

“I-it’s okay,” Kaneki stammers. The man looks intimidating; up close he looks like he could easily take on a wrestler, but he has a friendly smile and warm teal eyes and kind eyebrows…oh wait.

There is an awkward silence between Kaneki and the man, but Kaneki doesn’t want to be the first to break it because he’s much too shy to initiate conversations with strangers. It only lasts a couple seconds as the man, looking sheepish, says, “I just wanted to say that it was good. You’re quite a talented violinist.”

“Thank you, although I’m not sure about that,” Kaneki murmurs as he sets the violin upright on his lap, left hand still grasping the neck. “I’ve been practicing this piece for a few months, and I’m still nowhere near perfecting it.”

“Mastery doesn’t come instantly.” The man motions towards the makeshift stand. “May I?” Kaneki nods and the man leans in to peer at the convoluted notes zigzagging across the page.

“Sibelius? I can’t say I blame you for having such a hard time.”

Kaneki looks up at the man in surprise. “You know Sibelius?”

“Not much,” the man admits. “But I played the violin when I was a kid, and my…father would often play tapes of various classical pieces, which included the Sibelius Violin Concerto.” The corner of his mouth turns down, but Kaneki doesn’t notice the man’s dampened mood.

“Really? That’s great!” Kaneki exclaims. His eyes widen in realization and he blushes at his outburst. “Sorry.”

The man laughs, a low C major chord harmonizing discordantly with a pianissimo dark D minor. “No worries. It’s good that you’re so excited about music. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but,” he points to the makeshift stand, “what are you doing playing outside?”

“Oh…” Kaneki bites his lip. “I forgot to bring my key card to enter the music building. And I don’t think anyone’s going to come in anytime soon since it’s Sunday morning.”

“I imagine that would be the case, since it is…” The man cocks an arched eyebrow as he checks his watch. “Nine in the morning.”

Kaneki can hear it already. _This dumb kid is trying to enter a locked university building on a Sunday morning. What an idiot_.

“Things like this happen, especially for sleep-deprived university students,” is not what Kaneki was expecting to come out of the man’s mouth as he nods understandingly at Kaneki’s predicament. The man stares straight at him, as if he wants to read his thoughts, which is pretty unnerving.

“What’s your name?” the man asks abruptly, throwing Kaneki out of his reverie.

Kaneki isn’t sure whether to answer the stranger, but he seems to be very nice. “Kaneki Ken.”

The man smiles. “Pleasure to meet you, Kaneki-san. My name is Amon Koutarou.”

He wants to shake hands with Amon, but his hands are full with his violin and bow. “Nice to meet you, Amon-san.”

Amon clears his throat. “Sorry if I seem to be intruding, but you look like you have something heavy on your mind. Are you okay, Kaneki-san?”

Kaneki stares at the man. Is he really that transparent? “How…did you know that?” he asks hesitantly.

Amon pauses a quarter rest before answering. “Just instinct.”

Kaneki smiles thinly. “You must have very good instincts then.”

“Not particularly. I’ve worked with co-workers with good instincts though, and they’ve taught me that they can be more useful than logic at times.”

“I see.” Kaneki takes a deep breath. _Should I tell him or not? Amon-san seems to have good intentions, but he’s a stranger I met off the street a few minutes ago. But on the other hand he has experience. He might be able to help me_. Looking into Amon’s earnest eyes, he decides that maybe he can trust this man, this stranger who had drifted to his music when he probably has better things to do.

“I have to make a decision today by noon,” Kaneki starts, words sticking to his mouth like flies on honey, “and I’ve made my mind, but I’m still not sure it’s the right one.”

“I see. Why are you not sure you’re making the right decision?”

And Kaneki lets it all out, recounting yesterday’s events while he packs up his stuff, and it feels good to get some of this constricting tension off his chest. Amon is a great listener, nodding thoughtfully as he absorbs and quietly analyzes Kaneki’s story and his opinion on the matter.

“I really don’t know,” Kaneki says as he finishes his story. “This is the best opportunity I’ll probably get in my life, an invitation to further my career. It’s obvious what my decision should be. But I still don’t know. Every time I think about it, I get shivers and I feel anxious and all I want to do is run away.”

Amon is sitting on the other side of the picnic table, silent even as Kaneki’s words fade away. _Maybe I shouldn’t have told Amon-san. I probably scared him away_. He mentally slaps himself at the deprecating thought. _No, Amon-san is a good person, he’s just taking his time to think_.

Amon hums in contemplation, unaware of Kaneki’s internal dialogue. “I’m far from an expert in music,” he begins, “and it’s been years since I’ve played, but what I’ve discovered is that practice and lots of experience are key in improving your musicianship. You say you’re not very good, Kaneki-san, but I have to disagree. Right now you’re a large rough diamond, unrefined although there’s a few spots that shine. If you keep practicing and immersing yourself in music, chiselling those rough areas away, you will become a sparkling diamond.”

Kaneki gives him a weak smile. “You’re using a cliché to try to make me feel better, Amon-san?”

“Does it matter if the cliché is true though?” Amon argues back. “I can see that you have the potential, Kaneki-san. You just need to keep working towards it and not look back. Your friend is right. Just go for it, and if you don’t like it for whatever reason you can always just quit.”

Somehow, this stranger’s kind words hit Kaneki in the chest, expelling the tension coiling up inside him. He’s already made his decision, but he has one more thing to ask him. “Amon-san.”

“Yes?”

“What if my uncertainty to accept the offer is due to my instinct? What then?”

Amon catches his breath, briefly losing his confident demeanour. He quickly regains it back though, and looks past Kaneki toward the horizon.

“I don’t know. But as long as you consider both reason and instinct, you won’t be making the wrong decision.”

Kaneki ducks his head in a slight bow at the tall man, who is much more wise than he appears to be. “You’re right. Amon-san, thank you for your advice. I think I will take the opportunity. I won’t know until I try, right?”

“I’m glad you’ve settled on your decision,” Amon replies as he gets up from the hard bench. “I’m afraid I have to go to work now, but I’m glad that we’ve met and had a chance to talk.”

“Same,” Kaneki agrees. “Hopefully someone should be inside the building by now.”

The two are both on their feet now, violin case and briefcase in hand. Amon extends a hand towards Kaneki, who hesitantly shakes it, his hand crumpling under the man’s firm grasp.

“Goodbye, Kaneki-san.”

“Have a good day, Amon-san.”

And they go their separate ways, Amon off to work and Kaneki back to the Cube with warm giddiness throughout his body.  Thank goodness that nice man was there to help him sort out his chaotic thoughts. Kaneki feels a lot better now, and he thinks he’s actually excited to play with the TSO.

 _I can’t wait to tell Hide the good news_ , he thinks cheerfully as he pulls out his phone and Kanou’s business card. He dials the number, and a few seconds later, a woman’s voice greets him pleasantly.

“Tokyo Symphony Orchestra office. How can I help you?”

For some reason, Kaneki expected Kanou to answer the call, so it takes a second before he stammers, “Uh, hello. This is Kaneki Ken. Dr. Kanou told me to call this number to accept–“

“Ah yes, of course! You’re accepting Dr. Kanou’s offer?”

“Yes,” he answers back. _I’m finally doing this. No, I bet this is just a reality show where they bring the contestant’s hopes up only to crush them down and–_

“That’s great news!” the woman answers cheerfully. “Our first rehearsal is actually tomorrow from six to nine pm, so is there a number I can fax your parts to right away?”

Kaneki gives her the fax number for the Cube, and hangs up after the secretary gives him a cheery farewell. He’s standing in front of the side entrance now, but all he can see is the home screen of his phone.

_This is real. This isn’t a joke. I’m going to be playing with the TSO tomorrow night as an inclusive member._

Suddenly Kaneki desperately wants his violin I part, to tear through and perfect because he doesn’t want to disappoint the conductor for choosing such a novice violinist. He grabs the cool stainless steel doorknob and yanks on it, but the door doesn’t budge. He rattles the doorknob and pounds on the door and shouts for someone to open the door, but nothing. Sprinting to the front entrance, he tries the same thing, but those doors don’t budge either and no one comes out to check out the commotion.

Kaneki leans against the wall in disbelief. Crap.

* * *

Amon Koutarou enters the main road, leaving behind [the haunting echoes](https://youtu.be/GC_m_5Ow7ec?t=43s) of ruby, crimson, blood red chords he has always sought to wipe from his memories. _Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine._ As he walks down the familiar path of weathered four-story buildings covered top to bottom in grimy colourful signs, he attempts to distract himself from the venomous memories trickling in and poisoning his thoughts.

_The weather is very nice today although this year seems to be quite warm. Good thing I left early for work, or else I wouldn’t have had the time to talk to Kaneki–_

It’s no use. Every time he thinks of Kaneki and his enthusiasm, his violin, that concerto, that familiar eerie harmony, he thinks of _him_ and _his_ compassionate smile, _his_ wrinkled hand guiding his own as the bow clashes unevenly with the strings. Voices of angels interspersed with hell’s orchestra ringing, wails of demons with heaven’s ensemble pounding in his ears. _His_ unearthly gaze, of Paradise and Inferno, staring into his terrified eyes as _he_ lifts the conductor’s baton and strikes down, glinting metal slicing through delicate skin and releasing a fountain of blood and a bloodcurdling scream. As he watches silently from the shadows. _Et lux perpetua luceat eis._

He shouldn’t have taken that detour and talked to Kaneki. Not that he doesn’t hate Kaneki. The young man is quite interesting, shy and nondescript, but with an unlimited capacity of talent. _Te decet hymnus, Deus, in Sion._ He isn’t there yet in terms of skill and musicality, but Amon hadn’t been exaggerating when he had told Kaneki that he had potential. But was it worth it, meeting that violinist, unravelling what he’d been trying so hard to suppress? _Et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem._

 _Strong…I must be strong. An indomitable fortress_ , Amon chants as he mops up the sickly bubbling pool of sangria into a distant corner of his mind. _Exaudi orationem meam._

Thankfully, a poster stuck on a side of an alley that reads “HySy Studio” in bold black letters distracts Amon and lets his thoughts float away from the slowly evaporating puddle of blood. _Ad te omnis caro veniet..._ He wonders if he’s told Kaneki the right thing because there was something genuinely worrying about Kaneki’s ‘flight’ response for a chance to play with one of Japan’s top orchestras. The boy should be celebrating with his friends, not chatting with a stranger about his doubts of joining. Amon was all for gut instinct since it had saved his life multiple times, but wasn’t Kaneki overreacting?

 _In cases like this, logic should win out_ , Amon reasons. Yes, he’s told the right thing to the boy, and he’s sure that Kaneki will come to enjoy the once-in-a-lifetime offer soon.

Five minutes later, Amon arrives at his workplace, a plain grey building that towers over its neighbours. He walks briskly through the sliding glass doors into a lobby filled with clerk-manned counters and a couple rows of black plastic chairs in the back. After showing his badge to the security guard, he ascends up the elevator to the fifth floor to what would be a spacious open room if it weren’t filled with cubicles and a couple long tables and chairs strewn in disarray. As Amon treks across the room, straightening the empty tables and tucking the chairs inside, he catches a blur in his peripheral vision, and his fast reflexes save him from being cut in the face by a thick beige envelope.

“Amon,” a bored female voice calls out. “You’re late.”

Amon doesn’t even bat an eye. He’s used to it now at this point. “There’s still fifteen minutes left until the meeting starts, Akira-san.”

“Fifteen is late for you,” Akira shoots back as she rises from her cubicle and approaches him. Short pale blonde hair with a regal circlet of golden braids, a smart dark grey business suit coupled with a pencil skirt. Same as always, beautiful, aloof and disciplined. She would have done well in the military, Amon considers, except she would probably get kicked out the first day for disrespecting her superiors. She doesn’t do it  intentionally, but most people aren’t as understanding as he is.

“Is this the new case?” Amon asks, shaking the envelope.

Akira nods sharply. “Shinohara told me to pass it onto you. We’ll be briefed on it at the meeting.”

A head of fluffy brown hair pops up from the cubicle next to Akira’s and a young man wearing a navy blue suit quickly runs over to them.

“Good morning, Amon-san!” the man greets him, giving a quick bow.

Amon smiles at the enthusiastic young man. He was much more amiable than Akira, that was for certain. “Hello, Takizawa-kun. I apologize for my late arrival.”

“Oh no, you’re not late at all, Amon-san,” Takizawa reassures him, shaking his head. “That’s just Akira being inconsiderate. As usual,” he says with a pointed look towards his target.

The smile fades from Amon’s face as quickly as it appears.

“I don’t see how I’m being inconsiderate. I’m just simply reminding my partner that he should come in earlier next time,” Akira replies coolly.

Takizawa jabs a finger in his co-worker’s direction. “You just disrespected your partner who has a higher rank than you!”

“Time management applies to everyone, especially those of higher positions, so I suggest you–”

Amon leaves the two in their pointless argument. This is way too early in the morning for their silly bickering, and Amon isn’t as patient as he usually is today. Funny that although Akira preaches brevity in daily conversation, she always has a word (or a dozen) for Takizawa.

Entering a hallway lined with rooms, Amon unlocks the first one on the right and walks into his small but cozy office, bare except for a Silver Osmanthus and White Wing awards framed on the wall and a cup holding a few pens on his desk. He seats himself on the black leather executive chair and slightly leans back as he pulls out the contents of the envelope and skims through them. Police reports about a stolen violin, a trumpet, and an oboe. Rare instruments crafted by masters worth ten, hundred million yen.

He is about to skip the briefing introduction located in front of the package of papers since he will be briefed at the meeting today anyway. But two words in the notice immediately catch his eye.

The phone rings. Amon swiftly picks up the receiver, not looking away from the paper. “Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, Inspector Amon Koutarou of the Organized Crime Control division speaking. How may I help you?” he answers automatically.

_Aogiri Tree._

_Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adagio (Italian): slowly; an indication of tempo and sometimes used to describe a slow movement
> 
> I have a special place in my heart for Introit from Mozart's Requiem. And so does Amon (but not in that way unfortunately). For the second and third links, I've included the time stamp. I'll be including different parts of the pieces, especially the Sibelius concerto, in other chapters, but feel free to listen to all of it because it really is a masterpiece.
> 
> Thank you so much for your encouraging comments! They give me life, and I've relieved that I'm able to capture the essence of the characters. This chapter should have been out last week, but it got delayed by a mild concussion and vacation...I'm okay now though, and I'm posting this from Seoul :D I'll be posting updates on my tumblr, kenkamishiro under the tag #Die letzte Symphonie, and there's a status table that shows how far I've gotten in the writing process. Feel free to send asks on there!


	3. Sforzando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki's first day of TSO rehearsal ends with a bang.

Kaneki didn’t realize that the TSO rehearsals were so far away until today.

Well, not exactly. He knows where it is; he had attended a TSO concert once at its home hall in Kanagawa prefecture but that had been ages ago. It doesn’t seem that far, an hour-long subway ride, transferring once from the Toei Edo line at Okachimachi onto the Keihin Tohoku line and getting off at Kawasaki station. But once Kaneki mulls over the fact that he is going to have to commute back and forth twice during the school week and once more for the Saturday night concert, his mind cries out for the lack of sleep he is going to get this hectic week.

A short five-minute walk from the station later, Kaneki stands in front of the home of the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra, the Muza Kawasaki Symphony Hall, an enormous sandy ship anchored on land to a shopping complex in the middle of Kawasaki. A tiny insignificant minnow in the midst of a five-star cruise ship. He already feels so out of place and he hasn’t even gone inside the building yet.

 _Breathe in, breathe out. In…out._ Squaring his shoulders as best as he can in hopes of boosting his confidence, Kaneki strides purposefully through the front doors of the hall. As if he belongs there and no one is going to tell him otherwise.

“Excuse me, but you can’t go through there!”

Or not.

He freezes and slowly turns around. A young woman in a white knee-length dress and cardigan is jogging in a panic towards him, the sound of her heels clicking unevenly against the floor like a broken metronome.

“Pardon me?” Kaneki asks nervously. The woman halts in front of him, panting from the short run.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I must seem so rude,” she apologizes, breathing heavily as she tugs on the hairclip keeping her choppy brown bangs out of her face and refastens it. “It’s just that this area of the lobby is being renovated and we can’t have anyone going through there right now.”

Kaneki is relieved that she had a legitimate reason for yelling at him.

“No, it’s alright. I should be the one apologizing.”

She shakes her head furiously, and a piece of hair falls out from her loose ponytail. “Nonsense. You’re a visitor here, at least that’s what I’m assuming. I should be treating you better.” Her gaze falls downwards to the black violin case Kaneki is holding in his left hand. “You don’t happen to be Kaneki Ken, do you?”

“Uh, yes. I am. Were you the person I talked to on the phone yesterday?” Now that he thinks about it, her voice does sound familiar.

The woman breathes out a sigh of relief. “Yup! Thank goodness I found you. I was actually waiting for you out here since I didn’t actually tell you where we were supposed to meet,” she says sheepishly. “Oh, but where are my manners? I’m Taguchi, the secretary of the TSO.”

Kaneki shakes her outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Taguchi-san.”

“Nice to meet you too, Kaneki-kun. Is it alright if I call you that?”

He nods agreeably. “Sure.”

“Great! Then please follow me,” Taguchi says as she leads him around the building to a different entrance. She opens the glass door and motions for Kaneki to enter first. He steps through the doorway and his vision goes white.

The lobby is what Kaneki imagines heaven would look like, from the glittering tiled white marble floor to the alabaster bas-relief of playful cherubs flitting in the background, a few of them blocked by ivory Corinthian columns. Even the ticketing office is white, a counter of polished white granite manned by a person in a contrasting charcoal business suit. Kaneki squints at the sight, as if he is staring straight at the sun.

Taguchi looks over Kaneki’s shoulder and chuckles at his frozen figure. “Quite a sight, right? It would be perfect if it weren’t for the construction on the left.”

Kaneki looks over and for the first time notices the white plastic curtain blocking off a section of the lobby, a pair of burgundy rope barriers cordoning off the area with a sign that says “ _Construction. Do not enter_ ” in fancy cursive.

“The hall was partially destroyed by the Tohoku earthquake in 2011. It was completely fixed and rebuilt, but recently we discovered that the flooring in this area is a bit unstable, so we’ve blocked it off to fix. The repairs should be done before the concert though.”

Kaneki nods absentmindedly at Taguchi’s explanation. They meander through the endless curving lobby, and a minute later they arrive at a door marked “Tokyo Symphony Orchestra”.

“This is pretty much my place of reign, dealing with the logistics and paperwork. Dr. Kanou has an office here as well, but he’s not around that often,” Taguchi informs him as she unlocks the door and pushes through, Kaneki following close behind, into a room that looks like it houses a paper mill. The bookshelves are overflowing with binders, folders and short stacks of packaged paper. There are piles and piles of white prisms lined against the wall and the shelves themselves. Oddly enough, the desk is free of clutter.

“Please, have a seat,” Taguchi says as she flitters about the office, fretting as she rapidly flips through folders. “Sorry about the mess. The paper storage room is completely packed and a new shipment of paper came in earlier than expected.”

“It’s no problem,” Kaneki reassures her. He sits down in a black plastic chair in front of the desk.

_Taguchi-san is a pretty nice person, although she sure likes to apologize._

The secretary apparently finds what she needs, and pulls out a manila folder and from it a stapled package which she places in front of Kaneki.

“This is the contract you have to sign before you’re allowed to play with the orchestra. It’s not much, just liability issues and stuff like that,” Taguchi adds quickly when she sees Kaneki’s confused face. “Even if you’re only going to be playing for a week, the TSO wants to be covered for all possibilities. Formalities, if you will.” She quickly goes through the pages with a ballpoint pen. “Please read through it, and if you agree to the terms sign here, here and here.”

_Really? I’m only going to be playing for a week…_

However, he reads through the mercifully short two-page contract about liability, privacy and him attending all rehearsals. Straightforward. He signs on the lines Taguchi indicated with the pen and hands the papers back.

“Thank you, Kaneki-kun.” Taguchi takes the contract and gives him a slight bow. “I can officially call you a TSO musician now. Congratulations.”

Kaneki isn’t sure how to reply to that, but he stammers a thanks in return.

“No problem. Alright then, if you’ll follow me then I’ll take you straight to rehearsal,” the secretary declares cheerfully.

They exit the office and walk further down the lobby the opposite direction they came from. “Today I’ll take you to the stage through the front doors, but the musicians usually enter from the backstage doors,” Taguchi comments. They stop in front of what was probably taken straight from the Palace of Versailles, a pair of giant ornate wooden doors painted in white and decorated with gilded embellishments and a myriad of coats of arms. Kaneki is afraid to touch the door because with his terrible luck he would probably scratch the gold paint, which most likely contains real gold.

“Don’t be shy,” Taguchi speaks, interrupting Kaneki’s thoughts. “You won’t damage the door, I promise.”

Kaneki turns pink and murmurs something incomprehensible, but nevertheless he pushes the door open and enters the grand hall, an amphitheatre embroidered in gold pinewood and plush burgundy.

He’s been here once before, so it seems vastly different with the hall empty save for the stage filled with musicians occupying its incremental steps and instruments gleaming fantastically in the warm stage lights. Slowly walking down the aisle, Kaneki looks up at the three upper tiers of seats surrounding the stage. He feels slightly dizzy wading through this thick atmosphere, disturbing the reverence of this hall. It reminds him of a distant memory, of slipping through the heavy oak doors into an austere cathedral he had once visited as a child, and almost fainting from the pressure of the Goliath building crushing down upon his skull.

Taguchi takes no notice of Kaneki’s discomfort as she leads him to the stage. “This is where we hold our rehearsals and most of our concerts. It looks like Dr. Kanou hasn’t arrived yet, so I’ll take you to your seat. Which is…” She pulls out a piece of folded paper from her cardigan pocket, unfolding it to reveal an orchestra seating plan, and stands on her toes, squinting over the entire orchestra.

“…right over there. Third chair behind the concertmaster’s, right next to the lady with the long red hair.”

Kaneki gulps as they snake around the side of the stage near the medley of violinists. _They all look so professional_ , he thinks anxiously. _How am I supposed to fit in with these people?_

And then he sees them. Familiar faces. The principal flutist and clarinetist. The scary trombonist whose case Kaneki had almost tripped over the day before. Kaneki is almost relieved that he recognizes someone in this foreign environment, but at the same time he wants to avoid them. What is he supposed to do, walk right up to them and say, “Hey, we’re in the same university orchestra, let’s become friends!” Like that was going to happen. He is too shy and cowardly to make the first move, so he is more than content when he and Taguchi approach his seat and new deskmate.

 _She’s beautiful_ is the first thing that crosses Kaneki’s mind when he sees her. A black tube dress accentuating her hourglass figure. Her long wavy copper hair flows perfectly around her flawless heart-shaped face. Her bright auburn eyes shimmer in the light and her cherry red lips curl into a sweet smile.

“So you’re the cute newbie I’ll be playing with?” she chirps, her melodic voice just as sweet as her smile.

Kaneki’s cheeks burn, and he quickly bows, hoping to hide his schoolgirl blush. “Kaneki Ken. Pleasure to meet you,” he stammers.

The woman waves her hand lazily. “No need for formalities. I’m Itori.” She extends a neatly manicured hand which Kaneki awkwardly shakes.

Taguchi clears her throat. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. And Itori-san, try not to bully your deskmate too much,” she warns, giving her a pointed look.

“Of course not!” Itori exclaims with an innocent face. “I like Kanekichi-kun already.”

“Um, it’s Kaneki,” Kaneki says mildly, but his correction is either unheard or ignored as Itori speaks loudly over his soft voice. “He’s a lot more amicable than Rize so I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

_So she didn’t get along with Rize-san either…_

Taguchi sighs in relief, which unnerves Kaneki because she looks as if she just evaded a nuclear meltdown. “Good. Well, Kaneki-kun, I’d like to say more but I’m sure Itori-san will be more informative. Have a good first rehearsal!” And before Kaneki can respond, Taguchi flies off in a hurry, leaving him along with his gorgeous deskmate.

Hide is really going to have a fit when Kaneki tells him about this. And rehearsal hasn’t even started yet.

“So, Itori-san,” Kaneki starts stiffly as he unpacks his case and sets up his violin. His deskmate stares at him curiously. “How long have you been playing here for?”

Kaneki was expecting a lot of different answers, but Itori bursting into laughter and clutching her chest was not one of them.

“Huh? Did I say something weird?” he asks, slightly panicked at her strange reaction.

“Sorry,” she chokes out after her fit of snickers settles down, “it’s just that you looked like you had a stick up your ass when you said that. Like I said before, you really don’t need to be formal with me, so just say what’s on your mind. And to answer your question, I’ve been here for six years.”

Kaneki chuckles, his awkwardness melted away by Itori’s fiery words. “You’re right. I guess I was really anxious because I’m a novice surrounded by professionals.”

“Don’t worry too much about that. We know how you feel. We were all once beginners, right?” she says, lightly plucking the strings of her violin.

Kaneki nods enthusiastically. Thank goodness his deskmate was nice. “You’re right. Thank you for the advice, Itori-san,” he says with a barely noticeable bow.

“Seriously, didn’t I tell you to stop with the formalities, Kanekichi-kun?”

“It’s actually Kaneki.”

“Right, right. Sorry about that, Kane-kun.”

Kaneki exhales in resignation. Close enough. “Anyways, I did have another question for you.”

“The one you actually wanted to ask me?”

“Um, yes.” Kaneki meticulously applies rosin to his bow. He wonders if he’s just an easy person to read, or if he’s surrounded by sharp minds. “You didn’t get along with Rize-san?”

Itori lets out a loud whistle. “Whew. Getting straight to the point, huh? Thought you were going to ask how old I was.” She leans in, her bow-holding hand next to her lips and preventing anyone from reading their conversation. “Yeah, we didn’t get along.”

Kaneki rolls his eyes. “I figured that already.”

She claps him on the back. “Oh, glad to see you have a sense of humour!” Kaneki sputters in response. “I’m quite impressed that you’ve managed to stay with her for so long though.”

“She–”

“Mentioned you, yeah. She became my deskmate about a year ago when she first joined in. I tried to befriend her, or at the very least tolerate her.” Itori shrugs her bare shoulders. “It happens.”

“Yeah, it does.” Kaneki slouches in his seat. He knows there’s more to this that Itori isn’t mentioning, but he lets it slide.

“Plus she’s always hanging out with sketchy people. She really needs to pick better associates. Well, not that you’re sketchy, but you get what I mean.”

Kaneki perks up considerably, back immediately straightening. “Sketchy people? What do you mean by–”

A pair of loud claps cuts off his question, and the two violinists jerk their heads to the front of the stage where Kanou is standing at the podium.

“Alright, everyone,” he announces in a clear authoritative boom, “Overture, please.”

Loud rustles of paper being rearranged fill the cavernous hall. Kaneki is a little peeved that their conversation was cut short because he desperately wants to know more about Rize, but he silently waits while Itori pulls out Brahms’ _Tragic Overture_ , a double-sided three-page booklet.

Kanou clears his throat. “Before we start, I’d like to introduce a new member of our orchestra today. He is a substitute for the violin I section and he is currently a music student studying at Kamii. Please welcome Kaneki Ken.”

Polite applause litters the stage and Kaneki hesitantly stands up, face bright red from the unwanted attention. Itori pats his back comfortingly.

“My name is Kaneki Ken and I’m honoured to be playing with you today. Please treat me well,” he hastily says before he executes a quick mandatory bow and sinks into his chair. He can hear his deskmate giggling about his tomato red face and he grimaces.

“Thank you. Alright, from the top.” The silver-haired man lifts the baton and he sweeps his eyes through the entire orchestra, checking that all the sections are ready to play. An imperceptible nod, and the baton crashes down upon the orchestra like a guillotine blade.

The overture isn’t a difficult piece for Kaneki to play, but he isn’t used to Kanou’s conducting style and he finds it hard to keep up at first. Kanou has the true style of a maestoso, focusing more on the flow of the music and shaping the orchestra than keeping the beat and tempo like Ogura does. His hands ebb in and out, circle around, turn sharply. Two bees communicating with the orchestra and dictating its entire performance and behaviour. But it doesn’t take long for Kaneki to adjust to Kanou’s style, picking out the vague ticks of Kanou’s baton, and once he is comfortable, he immerses himself in the sombre music.

Although Brahms named the piece [_Tragic Overture_](https://youtu.be/TQ5NEdUiIec?t=35s), it doesn’t sound very tragic to Kaneki with the mixture of major chords with the standard D minor chords and the Beethovenian overtone. Perhaps it was tragic compared to the lively _Academic Festival Overture_ he wrote the same year. A pair of contrasting overtures. Maybe it was considered tragic that year in the late 19 th century, but to Kaneki it just sounds melancholy. The whole overture is muted, as if Brahms rose from the dead and placed a universal dampener on every instrument. Even the usual heart-rattling orchestra hits are muted. Or maybe, Kaneki contemplates, the fog shrouding this overture is the true tragedy. A smoky filter coating everything around him in sticky ash, colour and life gradually fading away even as the flutes and oboes and clarinets softly croon.

At a lateral flick of the baton, the orchestra immediately stops playing. Kaneki puts down his violin, relieving his neck muscles before they start to cramp.

“Letter ‘I’. More marcato, more fortissimo, especially first violins, and make sure you’re playing quarter notes, not half notes. Five before ‘I’, on the last beat.”

Kanou stops a few times throughout the rehearsal, picking out various instrumental sections and fine-tuning the almost-complete overture. Second violins to play more louder, the flute to play with more emotion.

They finally finish the overture after a half-hour of poring over the finer details. Satisfied, Kanou calls out, “First movement of the symphony, please.”

Kaneki is about to get his folder out but Itori beats him to it. “I got it,” she says, pulling out her copy of Brahms’ [_Symphony No. 4_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ckuUq7im8H4) covered in pencil scrawls.

He nods a _thanks_ to Itori. When Kanou sees that everyone is ready, the baton dives smoothly and resurfaces to the mind-wandering of the first movement of Brahms’ last symphony, the true ‘tragedy’.

As Kaneki plays the interval thirds with alternating rhythms that Brahms and his Fourth Symphony are famous for, his muscles loosen up at the familiar consoling melody. He loves how the thirds intertwine into a woven chain of sorrow and joy, the two drastic emotions indistinguishable from one another. How Brahms layers the simple abstract phrases on top of one another until a comprehensive and complex story is born. The rigid structure of the Baroque era fused with the abstruse emotion of the Romantic period.

He recalls his music analysis class from last year, when he was studying the same piece he is playing now. Just bits and pieces of the professor’s lecture, but one part comes to mind. _You might think about Brahms’ third intervals as the skeleton or the flesh of this composition, but that is incorrect. They are the cells, the building blocks of this symphony. The cells are grouped together to create larger structures, the painful ache of an empty heart or the exhilaration of blood pounding through your veins._ He never quite understood his professor’s strange analogy until now, sitting in a room of around a hundred people playing different broken melodies which somehow manage to convey pure emotion to people’s hearts. What a marvellous human invention music ensembles are.

Kaneki lazily follows the [woodwinds’ conversation](https://youtu.be/ckuUq7im8H4?t=4m35s), embellishing the flutes, oboes and clarinets’ shared solo until they fade away, leaving his bow along with the other violins’ to pull the strings into a tighter embrace. The volume rises, tension blooms inside him as he strikes softly the first set of three sharp and bittersweet notes. The violins and the lower strings passing on echoes of the same melody like two passionate lovers screaming and dying in each other’s arms, but still beautiful because of that very passion. Together in life and death. His eyes water at that raw emotion, tears ready to slip out of the window that reflects a nostalgic past he wishes he could remember and forget. Fingers gliding across black and white, a warm smile that stretches too thin, eyes that twinkle at the sound of a laugh, a cold papery hand grasping his own, streaks of grey climbing down limp bedraggled hair, a white cloth over a familiar landscape of dead hills and valleys.

It isn’t until a tear slides down Kaneki’s right cheek that he awakens from his trance as the tempo slows down and the phrase ends with an orchestra hit to an unexpected note, a G instead of a B. He wants to wipe it away so badly. What is he thinking, crying in the middle of rehearsal when he has to focus on playing all those arpeggios? It’s hard to concentrate, and Kaneki knows that he’s messed up the notes more than once. He’s also pretty sure Itori has noticed his tears, or at the very least his mistakes.

_Come on, no time to think about this now._

And Kaneki mentally squares his mind and delves into the music, leaving his heartache and memories behind.

* * *

The second movement ends with the last pluck of the violin string. Kanou finally sets down his baton. “Fifteen minute break.”

The orchestra erupts into a cacophony of scuffles and conversation that drowns out Kanou’s voice before he finishes speaking. Kaneki puts down his violin in relief, his bowing arm sore and his pinkie finger on his left hand twitching.

“Ah, typical Kanou,” Itori yawns as she sets her violin and bow on her lap and stretches her arms. “Always working us to the bone.”

“Yeah,” Kaneki agrees. He’s relieved that Itori doesn’t mention anything about what happened in the first movement. He flexes his fingers, wincing when his left middle knuckle cracks painfully. The symphony isn’t too technically difficult (when he’s focusing), yet it feels like he’s been practicing for hours instead of a short ninety minutes.

Itori snaps her fingers. “Ah, that reminds me! Kanou said in your introduction that you’re attending Kamii?”

“Uh, yeah. Why do you ask?”

“So you know Touka-chan and Nishiki-kun and Ayato-kun then?”

Their names sound vaguely familiar which Kaneki deduces is probably due to them being in the same university orchestra as him.

“I know of them but I’m not really friends with them or anything.”

The redhead pouts her lips. “Aren’t you university students supposed to stick like glue, especially in this place full of old people?”

“You don’t look old,” Kaneki blurts out unexpectedly. He covers his mouth in embarrassment.

Itori laughs and pats his head like a puppy. “You’re so sweet, Kanekichi-kun. I know I’m not really that old, but relative to you I am. Anyways, why don’t you go talk to them or something? I’m sure you’d much rather talk to them than an old aunt like me.”

Kaneki shakes his head. “No thanks.”

“Don’t get all shy now! This is how you make friends!”

“I’ll pass.”

She heaves a great sigh like an exasperated mother dealing with a grumpy toddler. “Fine, fine. How about I introduce you to _my_ friends then?”

He feels kind of bad for Itori. She was just trying to help him adjust to this new environment, and here he was being all antisocial. But every time he thinks of standing in front of the scary trombonist with his glasses doing that creepy glint in the light, he shudders and hopes he never has to talk to that guy.

“Alright,” he says reluctantly.

Itori brightens up, and like a little child drags Kaneki out of his seat and around the maze of chairs and music stands until they end up at the back of the stage. He passes by a bass drum that reaches up to his shoulders, a set of four timpani drums arranged in a semi-circle, and a table stacked with a pair of mallets and a metal triangle complete with its own beater. And in front of them is a tall man in a slate overcoat, with silver hair that curls out at his neck and almost kisses his shoulders. Despite the grey hair he doesn’t look to be older than thirty.

Kaneki would have stared at the man’s odd appearance (because who wears thick coats in April?) had it not been for the other man beside him, pencil and notebook in hand and crouched on a stool like a cat waiting to pounce on its prey. A man in loose black baggy clothing draped over his lean body, intricate tattoos covering the rest of his bare skin. His short black hair is parted to the right and is tied back into a tiny ponytail, revealing the shaved underside of his head and his multiple ear piercings. And if that isn’t enough to make the man immediately stand out, when he turns his head towards Kaneki and Itori, Kaneki almost faints from the shock. Red pupils in a sea of black sclera. He wonders how this guy managed to get accepted into an orchestra because most people would be averse to such an unconventional appearance.

“U-chan, Ren-chan!” Itori crows to the two men. “Guess who I brought along?”

The tattooed man cocks his head like a curious crow and stares at Kaneki with an unfathomable expression that makes him just slightly uncomfortable. The silver-haired man doesn’t even bother looking at him, completely engrossed in what is on his phone screen.

“Kaneki, right? I’m Uta.” The man sticks out his hand, inked in sophisticated designs of crowns and flowers and chains that Kaneki can’t comprehend or describe. Kaneki shakes his cool hand cautiously.

“Don’t be scared,” Itori quips. “He may look scary but he’s actually very nice.”

Kaneki yelps. “Ah, I didn’t mean to – uh, sorry!”

“No worries, I’m used to it. Welcome to the TSO.”

“Thank you…” Kaneki’s voice trails away. Uta may look terrifying, but he has a contrasting soft and pleasant voice that puts Kaneki at ease.

Uta pokes the silver-haired man’s arm. “Introduce yourself, Renji-kun.”

The man looks toward Kaneki’s general direction with a brooding face reserved for funerals or terrible test marks. “I’m Yomo.” And he goes back to his phone.

Itori rolls her eyes. “Seriously, Ren-chan. What are we supposed to do with you? This is why you never get invited to parties.”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t want to go to them,” Yomo mutters back under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“…nothing.”

Kaneki looks at the various instruments surrounding them. For a percussion section, it seems to be rather bare, with just the timpani, bass drum and triangle.

“You haven’t played yet, right U-chan?” Itori questions, pointing to Uta’s notebook.

He nods, still perched on his stool. His eyebrow piercing glints for a moment. “There’s no triangle until the third movement and we haven’t played that far yet. I really wish we would play something other than Brahms. He never uses percussion, and I get bored sitting around doing nothing.”

“So, are you and Yomo-san both percussionists?” Kaneki asks curiously.

“I am, but Renji-kun isn’t,” Uta corrects him. “He’s a horn player but he just likes hanging out here during break.”

“Then how come you haven’t played at all yet? Aren’t you the only one here?”

Uta hums in response. “There’s actually a whole bunch of us, but the Brahms pieces Kanou chose don’t really utilize percussion other than the timpani. The timpanist is hanging out here somewhere, and the others didn’t come to today’s rehearsal. So it’s just me and this triangle part…here.” Uta leaps out of his chair, startling Kaneki, and snatches the sheet music off the stand, flipping to the third movement and pointing to two tiny phrases marked “ _Trgl_ ”. Kaneki isn’t sure if they can be called “phrases” because one is comprised of repeating the same quarter note five times while the second one is a half note trill. He’s beginning to understand why Uta brought along his notebook.

“What percussion instruments do you play then?”

“Auxiliary percussion,” Uta answers. “Drums, cymbals, bells, basically anything that doesn’t have a specific pitch.”

“There’s more than one type of percussion? I don’t really know any percussionists, so I’m sorry if I seem a bit ignorant,” Kaneki apologizes sheepishly.

Uta smiles. “It’s okay. I’m actually happy that you’re asking, since percussion is usually ignored.” He holds up an index finger. “Auxiliary, which I’m in.” Middle finger. “Tuned percussion, which is basically any instrument that can make specific notes and pitches. Like the glockenspiel or wind chimes, for example.” Ring finger. “And timpani, which is also tuned but requires lots of skill that separates it into its own special field.” Uta points to the four large drums. “I can play all three types to a certain degree, but I chose to specialize in auxiliary.”

“Wow…” Kaneki stares at the instruments. He knows that they are an essential part of an orchestra, keeping him playing on the beat when he can’t look at the conductor’s ticking arms, but he didn’t realize that percussion was such a complicated field. Then again, every instrument is complicated. “Can I ask why you chose auxiliary?”

“Why I chose auxiliary?” Uta lightly taps his chin. “There’s just something special about them, in a stage full of instruments that can make different tones and produce an infinite number of melodies. Instead of creating my own voice, I’d rather choose to augment or join those melodies by adding a crash cymbal, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks, or a snare drum roll to increase the tension in the atmosphere. It’s quite satisfying hearing what little I do can change how the piece sounds.”

Kaneki has never heard anything so philosophic about percussion before, but he really appreciates the thought Uta has put into choosing his specialty.

“That’s amazing,” Kaneki says. “You must put your thoughts into everything you do.”

“He sure does,” Itori jumps in after leaving the conversation to the two. “What a talented guy. Orchestra percussionist, philosopher, artist, and electric instrument designer.”

“Seriously?” Kaneki gasps. “Like electric guitars?”

Uta nods. He thumbs through his notebook, which Kaneki realizes is probably his sketchbook for his designs. “Yes, along with other string instruments. Mostly violins and cellos.”

“That’s so cool!” Kaneki exclaims. He has never played an electric violin before. The synthesized sound doesn’t really appeal to him, but it sounds interesting, an experience that Kaneki has always wanted to cross off his bucket list.

“Would you like to try playing one for fun?” Uta asks. “You can visit my studio anytime. Free of course.” He reaches into his pocket and hands Kaneki a business card. On the embossed white cardboard, etched with an intricate black sun similar to the style of Uta’s tattoos, is _HySy Studios_ along with its address and hours.

“Thank you, Uta-san,” Kaneki says as he takes the card and pockets it.

“No problem.” Uta smiles, his eyes crinkling in happiness, and for a split second his pupils disappear from sight, making him look as if he is possessed by a demon.

A loud clap echoes through the stage.

“Time to go,” Itori says, looking at the source of the sound where Kanou is standing at the podium again. She slowly walks away. “See you later, you two.”

Uta waves a goodbye and Yomo looks up and nods silently before slowly making his way back to the horn section.

Kaneki quickly catches up to Itori. “Does Yomo-san not…like me?”

She looks surprised and shakes her head. “On the contrary. I think he likes you. He’s just quiet except when he’s drunk.” She giggles at a distant memory that only appears for her.

They return to their seats and Kanou resumes rehearsal, going over the third and fourth movements. By the end of rehearsal Kaneki is exhausted and ready to fall headfirst into his bed or music stand, whichever comes first.

Kanou puts his baton down on the stand. “Good job, everyone. I’ll see you on Wednesday,” he abruptly announces. The musicians erupt into a frenzy as they hurriedly clean and pack up their instruments to leave the hall.

“Good job, Kanekichi-kun.” Itori pats Kaneki on the back. “Not bad for a first rehearsal.”

Kaneki looks down at his rosin-covered bow. “Really? I messed up so much though…”

Itori glances at her deskmate sympathetically. “Relax. We were all like you once upon a time. Let’s start packing, alright?”

Kaneki nods mutely, and the two violinists slowly begin packing up their instruments. Even Itori’s bright ball of energy seems to have died out because she doesn’t gab like she did before rehearsal and during the break.

“Itori-san. Can I ask you one more question about Rize-san?” he says quietly.

She gives him a look, then groans. “Man, what am I going to do with you? You just keep asking about her.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…”

Itori waves her hand carelessly. “Fine, fine. You’re such a cute kid that I’ll tell you for free. You’re gonna have to pay next time you ask though.”

Kaneki has no idea what she is talking about, but he decides to ignore that for the time being.

“You mentioned that she keeps hanging out with sketchy associates. What do you mean by that?”

“Kanekichi-kun, as much as I want to tell you, I feel that it would tarnish your image of her.” She looks slightly uncomfortable, which surprises Kaneki a lot considering her feelings towards Rize.

“I already know she’s not a kind person. She’s probably dealing with some bad stuff. Despite that though, I still care for her and want to know more about her,” he insists.

Itori doesn’t even miss a beat as she answers, “Behind her back, where she can’t kick your ass, you mean?”

“N-no!” Kaneki stutters. “I mean–”

“Calm down, I’m just joking. I know you don’t have any ill intent.” She carefully places her violin into the plush fabric, a puzzle piece fitted into place. “Exactly what I mean. Sketchy people who are into shady business.”

“Can you elaborate on that?”

Itori purses her bright red lips. “Rumour has it that Rize is involved in some shady business deals to support her opulent lifestyle.”

“Shady business deals?”

“You know.” Her hand swivels around her eye. “Underground, black market, criminal world, whatever you want to call it.”

“I see.” That would certainly explain how Rize could afford a penthouse as a twenty-one year old music student, even if she is a prodigy.

“Is that all?” The musicians are starting to vacate the hall, clearing the chairs and stands from the wooden steps of the stage.

“One more.” Kaneki takes a deep breath. “Do you think Rize disappeared because of her connection to these…shady deals?”

Itori shrugs as she zips up her violin case. “Who knows. I wouldn’t rule it out though. Sorry, but it’s probably time to go now.” She gestures to the almost empty stage.

Kaneki gulps. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to take up your time!”

She ruffles his smooth black hair almost affectionately. “Don’t worry about it. I’m actually enjoying this. You’re like the little brother I never had.” Itori stands up, slinking into her stylish black coat and carrying her violin. “Anyways, I’ll see you on Wednesday, Kanekichi-kun.”

“Bye, Itori-san,” he calls out from his seat as she joins the remaining stragglers through a side exit, leaving Kaneki and a couple other musicians in the back alone in the hall.

 _What an eventful rehearsal_ , he thinks as he finishes up the last of his clean-up and zips up his violin case. _I learned a lot about Rize-san tonight. Itori-san seems to know a lot of information, so maybe I should ask her some more questions next rehearsal. I don’t want to annoy her though with all these questions. And what did she mean by ‘price’?_

Kaneki continues his internal monologue while he stacks his chair and stand on the storage carts. He returns to his place to pick up his violin sitting on the floor, and he stares at the now-empty hall. He shivers, as if something is crawling down his spine. The light-headedness from before returns and Kaneki decides that it is best if he leaves the stage now.

Picking up his violin, Kaneki strides toward the exit he saw Itori and the other musicians leave through and he reaches for the door handle.

“Kaneki-kun, there you are! Can I talk to you for a minute, please?”

“Taguchi-san,” he responds automatically, mouth dry. He turns around, Taguchi standing in front of the conductor’s podium, around where the first row of strings players congregate. The stage lights shine down on her head, creating the illusion of a golden halo around her dark brown hair. He sluggishly retraces his steps, and the crown on her head glows even brighter.

“How was your first rehearsal?” she asks. Her voice is slightly raised to accommodate the acoustics of the hall.

He licks his dry lips. “It was good. I had a bit of a hard time at first adjusting to Dr. Kanou’s conducting, but I think I’m okay now.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” The secretary beams at him as he finally reaches conversation distance from her. “Itori-san didn’t give you a hard time, I hope?”

“No, she was actually pretty helpful. I’m glad to have her as my deskmate.”

Taguchi lets out a breath she must have been holding for a while. “Thank goodness. It was hell dealing with those two, so I’m glad there aren’t any problems. Anyways, that was all I wanted to talk to you about. You must be pretty tired.”

Kaneki feels his exhaustion creeping into his joints as soon as Taguchi mentions it. “Yeah, I am.”

“Hurry up and go, then. Have a good night, Kaneki-kun.”

“Thank you. You too, Taguchi-san.”

Kaneki is about to go back the way he came when a clap of thunder booms above, echoing in the open space of the hall and reverberating against the walls, ringing in Kaneki’s ears.

 _Huh? What’s that sound?_ He looks up for the source of the sound and then he sees it.

A hunk of metal and bright fluorescent stage lights falling right above where Kaneki is standing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sforzando (Italian): a musical direction to indicate a sudden or marked emphasis
> 
> ...I wasn't supposed to end this in a cliffhanger, but it just happened. Also, the timpani is really cool and you can't tell me otherwise. And that really dramatic scene with the 'woodwinds' conversation' goes from 4:35 to 5:24. The dramatic part with the 'sharp and bittersweet notes' is at 4:54. That part makes me cry too.
> 
> I'm going to explain a couple terms that appeared in the chapter. Interval thirds are basically the first and third note of a musical scale. They are the basis of many chords and scales, and Brahms loved them a lot. So much that these thirds are a theme in Symphony No. 4. Arpeggios are like chords (playing a bunch of notes at the same time in a specific manner) but played one at a time. They're not very fun to play, but they're extremely important in music.
> 
> After writing three chapters, I've realized that it's going to take me around three weeks (and probably longer once school starts) to write a chapter to my satisfaction. One reason it takes so long is that I have to spend time listening to the music and familiarizing myself with it. The writing goes a lot faster if I've played it before, but the Tragic Overture and Symphony No. 4 were new to me, so it took a while to find the words to match the pieces. For all the pieces, I usually follow along with the sheet music and if it's a new one, then I might skim through an analysis of the music composition.
> 
> Finally, thank you for the comments! They're very important to writers because they tell them what they did well on or what they could improve on. So please comment away! You can ask me questions about DLS on my tumblr, kenkamishiro as well.


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